


Forest of the Angels

by Nicor_Fyrweorm



Series: Last of the Time Lords [6]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Time Lords (Doctor Who), Episode: s05e05 Flesh and Stone, Gen, Implied Mind Rape, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Breakdown, Post-Episode: s04e08-09 Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead, Post-Episode: s04e10 Midnight, The Master Has Issues, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Timey-Wimey, Warning: Weeping Angels, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicor_Fyrweorm/pseuds/Nicor_Fyrweorm
Summary: Amy Pond wanted them to get out of this mess alive and stay with her Raggedy Doctor. River Song wanted to keep Amy safe and have the Doctor accept her. Father Octavian wanted to get rid of the Weeping Angels and complete the mission.The Masterstillwanted everything to make sense again… until he got the answers to his questions.Or the one where miracles happen, secrets are revealed and people break.
Relationships: Amy Pond & River Song, Tenth Doctor & River Song, Tenth Doctor & The Master (Simm), The Doctor & River Song, The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), The Master & Amy Pond (Doctor Who), The Master & River Song
Series: Last of the Time Lords [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1511825
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Forest of the Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Beware of the tags, this one is worse than _The Reason to Fight._ Nothing explicit, but then again, _Doctor Who_ is a kid's show.

Amy recovers consciousness with a gasp, though she's not sure if she ever lost it to begin with. Still, what other explanation is there for the blackout she just suffered?

One moment, they are on the open area underneath the crashed _Byzantium,_ surrounded by Weeping Angels and with their torches flickering. The next, they're lying on a metal floor, light all around them, with River and the Clerics jumping to their feet and shouting orders and questions all around them.

The Doctor, lying on his back next to Amy, lets out a muffled groan as he grimaces in pain, twitching as if even the slightest movement was painful.

“Up! Everyone, look up!” River is shouting, but Amy pushes herself to sit on her heels over the Doctor, pressing a hand to his forehead while the other rests against the side of his neck.

“Are you alright?” she asks him, trusting the Clerics will keep them safe, and the Raggedy Man's grimace deepens for a moment.

“Never doing that again without the Archangel Network. Ow,” he winces, but a deep breath later, he finally opens his eyes to meet Amy's relieved gaze. “What's the verdict? Do I still have all my limbs?”

“Yes, you do,” Amy chuckles, taking her hands back when she finally locates both heartbeats and makes sure his temperature is comfortably cool. “What do you need the Archangel Network for? We're talking about the mobile network, right?”

“Mobile,” he repeats with a snort, carefully sitting up as the Clerics move all around them. “That's how Saxon was defeated, when a decimated Earth sent a message for a vengeful Archangel to come and turn back time, and you pathetic humans keep using it as a _mobile network._ You never cease to surprise,” he adds with a mocking grin, rubbing his face as he blinks to clear his sight.

“An Archangel defeated Saxon?” Amy asks with a frown, trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or speaking the truth.

He doesn't look _alright,_ somewhat off and eyes unfocused, face pale and breathing more shallowly than normal, as if to keep pain at bay. Knowing how he is, Amy can't discard him having got hurt with whatever he did to get them away from the Angels, adding to his preexisting injuries. One way or another, she can't discard a concussion, which would explain his current symptoms and his babbling nonsense.

Then again, he may _not_ be babbling nonsense. They're dealing with statues that come to life when you're not looking and snap your neck, after all, so she can't just shrug something as a hallucination simply because it sounds too fantastical.

“No, _the Doctor_ defeated Saxon with an alternate timeline, but was too tightly linked to it to see the gun, so Saxon died and I won,” he explains with a dismissive shrug that immediately turns into a pained flinch, his hands going back to his temples to rub them, as if chasing away a headache. “Please, tell me I didn't say that out loud,” he whimpers, bowing his head, but when Amy hesitates, his shoulders slump with a defeated sigh, knowing the answer. “ _Never_ get a gun, Amelia. They only hurt the people you care about, get them killed. I _hate_ guns. And radiation. I hate radiation too and _why_ are we still _out here?”_ he asks, louder this time as he finally uncurls and looks up. “River, Father Octavian, _whoever_ has any idea about how to break into a starliner airlock, _get to it already._ If you think I can keep the lights stable any longer, you'll be sorely disappointed. For the last moment of your life, that is, because _they_ will get us the moment they go out.”

Amy follows his gaze, confused with all his mood swings and the thoughts all over the place – and grabs onto the Raggedy Doctor with a startled gasp.

“What are those Angels doing on the ceiling?!” she asks loudly, making sure to stare at them without meeting their eyes.

“They're not on the ceiling, Amy. I just gave us a boost when you jumped so we landed on the hull of the _Byzantium._ And, since the ship crashed with its engines running, all systems are still online, including gravity,” the Doctor explains with a huff and a bored tone, as if repeating something for the nth time.

Amy gulps and decides to take a risk, looking around for a moment. River has pulled out a small panel next to an airlock on the metal floor, and she's messing with it to open it, with the Clerics standing all around and looking up. The place looks too bright, but that's because the lights are on the floor, in between the Clerics, who make sure not to step on them. The walls are rock.

And the 'ceiling', now that Amy knows what to look for, does definitely look a lot like the small open area under the crashed _Byzantium._ Where they had been standing before _the Doctor flipped them all upside down._

“How did you _do_ that?” she asks in a whisper, once more looking at the Angels, and the Doctor huffs, as if insulted.

“I told you, I gave you an extra push when you jumped. A lift, actually, but the result's the same.”

“ _How?”_

“I'm a _Time Lord._ I could make the jump without problem, but not you humans. I could have pulled two of you with me, but I wouldn't have been able to sustain the lights at the same time, not until all of you were up here. But you _trusted_ me. And I turned that trust into reality, I used it to meld alternate timelines in which I pulled up different people into one, _this one,_ which resulted in all of you being pulled up at the same time by the energy produced by your belief. Faith and hope and prayer, Amelia. Channeled appropriately, it can lead to miracles,” he explains with a mocking but proud grin, and Amy only realizes she's looked away from the Angels when she notices she's staring at him open-mouthed.

“You did _what?”_

“Unfortunately, the torches and gravity globe fell prey to the Angels. I couldn't keep them and all of you stable at the same time, so bye, lights. I hope it's daytime when we get out, I really doubt the additional torches will last long enough against such an assault,” he adds, ignoring her question, with a nonchalant shrug that quickly turns into a snarl. “Are we in yet?!”

“Yes!” River shouts just as the airlock spins open. “Inside, quickly!”

Amy doesn't need to be told twice.

They all file in as fast as possible without breaking the line of sight with the Angels, though there's some tripping and swearing involved when the gravity pulls them to the floor of the corridor, standing at a ninety degrees angle to the ceiling they were stuck on.

“Sir, the statues look more like Angels now,” one of the Clerics comments, swallowing nervously, as they move away from the airlock.

“Of course they do,” the Doctor scoffs, frowning as if concentrating deeply or fighting off a headache. “They're feeding on the radiation from the wreckage, draining all the power from the sh—” he adds, cutting himself with a hiss as he trips on his own feet. “ _Run!”_

No one thinks it twice, breaking out in a run before they can stop themselves – and barely make it past a bulkhead a bit further down the corridor, with Father Octavian pulling one of his Clerics in when, running backwards as they are, he almost gets stuck on the other side.

“We need to get to a more defensible position!” Father Octavian orders, pulling his Cleric away from the door when something slams loudly into it. “Now!”

“River, move!” the Doctor orders with a snarl, but his voice is chocked.

Amy turns to him, looking away from the bulkhead and the Angels now on the other side, and her breath hitches in her throat.

He's doubled over, leaning heavily against the wall. He looks pale as death, forehead shining with sweat, and his eyes are creased in clear pain. His teeth are bared in a snarl as he glares as best as he can at the bulkhead, and his fists are tightly clenched, with the bandages on the right one looking singed and speckled with orange-red spots.

“Through here, quick! It should be the Secondary Flight Deck,” River calls from next to another door, the panel on the wall hanging off as she does something to the cables insides.

“Come on, you,” Amy orders, hoisting one of the Doctor's arms over her shoulders as she tries to pull him towards the door, the Clerics guarding them, but he doesn't move.

“No, no, I need contact with the wall, with the cables, I need to keep the seal up, the lights on—” he hisses, pained, with a chocked voice, but there is no way in Hell Amy is going to let him sacrifice himself for them.

“Yeah, okay, do that, but you know, start shuffling back,” she tells him as she tugs him towards River once more, but this time, keeps them close to the wall.

And, fortunately, the Doctor does as told, breathing heavily and wincing with every moan of the bulkhead, growing paler while the bandages on his right hand turn darker and more blood-stained.

“In, everyone!” River orders as the door opens with a whoosh, and, not thinking twice, Father Octavian and the Clerics hurry inside. “Doctor, come on!” she adds, still with her hands deep in the control panel, when he stops right next to the entrance.

“Move, you stubborn alien!” Amy shouts practically in his ear, but he doesn't even flinch, too busy clawing at the wall and snarling down the corridor, his eyes so crinkled in pain that she's not sure he can see anything anymore.

River and Amy exchange a look over his head, worry and fear in their eyes, before River goes serious. Catching up on her plan just a second later, Amy nods.

“One!” Amy shouts, wrapping herself more tightly around the Doctor's middle.

“Two!” River adds, tweaking something in the panel that makes it spark even as she shuffles a step away.

“And three!” they shout in unison as River jumps at them and Amy _pulls._

They fall on a pile in the room, where hands immediately grab onto them and drag them further inside just before the door slams closed on their legs.

“Secure all entrances!” Father Octavian orders after slapping a device over the wheel on the door, and two of the Clerics who pulled them inside leave to follow his orders while the third helps Amy and River get off the Doctor.

“Idiots! The lights!” the Doctor hisses sharply but weakly, glaring up at Amy and River through one barely open eye, but doesn't move from his position on the floor, gasping for breath and trembling in pain.

“I'll isolate the system,” River tells them, squeezing Amy's shoulder before rushing off to the console on the opposite side of the room.

“Help me get him comfortable,” Amy asks the Cleric, who nods and carefully pulls the Doctor up and to one of the chairs, into which he slumps with a pained groan, almost boneless. “What the Hell did you do, Raggedy Man? What was that?” Amy asks as she takes a small first aid kit from her belt, hesitating at all the stuff in it before she grabs a gauze pad and dabs at his forehead.

The lights flicker before stabilizing, and the Doctor lets out a sigh and finally relaxes.

“I've isolated the lighting grid. They shouldn't be able to drain the power now,” River tells them from the controls, but other than give Amy a questioning and worried look, she doesn't step away from the consoles, moving to something else.

“They won't,” the Doctor croaks, lifting his head up slowly, as if even that slight movement pained him, to look around the room. “The ambient radiation will be enough, now that they're here. But they'll still try to get through those doors.”

And, right on cue, the wheel of the door they came through jerks with a moan of metal.

“That's impossible. The door is magnetized, nothing could turn that wheel,” Father Octavian lets out with horror in his voice, and the Clerics guarding the other two doors take a step back when their wheels turn as well.

“Oh, to be young and innocent,” the Doctor scoffs, pushing Amy's hand away – and stands up, wobbling for a moment before regaining his stability. “We have five minutes, thanks to your magnetizers, so don't fret. River, this is a galaxy class ship, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is. It's through that wall over there, I'm trying to release the clamps,” she answers, still busy with whatever she's doing at the controls, and Father Octavian and the Cleric not guarding a door immediately rush to the wall River nodded at, pushing the cabinets away from it.

“What are you talking about? What's in there?” Amy asks, looking from the tired Doctor slowly recovering some color as he smirks, and the focused River.

“This ship can go years between planet falls, Amy. And humans need to breathe,” the Doctor answers softly as the wall slowly slides up.

Amy gapes.

“It's a forest,” she whispers after a couple blinks, staring incredulously at the trees and moss and rocks now in front of them.

“It's an oxygen factory. And, if we're lucky, our escape route,” River answers this time, taking out her portable computer as she walks into the forest with Father Octavian by her side. “I'll check the architecture so we don't get lost.”

“The rest of you stay where you are until I check the rad levels,” Father Octavian adds, taking a tiny computer of his own as he follows River further in.

“Trees. On a spaceship,” Amy repeats, staring at the Doctor with an incredulous smile, and he huffs softly in amusement as he leans against the console. “Maybe you should sit down again,” she adds, all awe replaced by worry once more as she grabs his shoulders when he sways.

“We should take a look at that hand too, Sir,” the Cleric not on guard duty adds, retrieving Amy's first aid kit and joining them as he nods at the Raggedy Man's bandaged hand.

The bandages are practically burnt through now, if not covered in bloodstains, and Amy barely holds back a curse as she notices it.

“Leave the hand be, it won't go anywhere,” the Doctor scoffs, pulling it back as Amy reaches for it. “Now, the trees are treeborgs, biotechnological trees connected to the hull—”

“Shut up and let me look at that!” Amy cuts as she reaches for his arm again, wrapping her hand tightly around the forearm armor to tug the bandaged hand back in sight—

And the Doctor cuts himself with a chocked scream, curling around his hand with a pained grimace when Amy releases it in surprise, jerking away.

“Doctor!” River calls, rushing back to their side, while Father Octavian stays where he is, computer still in hand. “Sweetie, talk to me, what's wrong?”

“You call me that _one more time…”_ the Raggedy Man hisses, glaring at River from where he's still curled around his injured hand, and River lifts her hands with a relieved smile.

“And you'll throw me into the event horizon of a collapsing galaxy or age me to the second of my death and suspend me in time. Or you might get inventive. Yes, I know, sorry for the slip,” she finishes for him, smiling still despite her words, while Amy and the Cleric gawk.

“I hate you,” the Doctor huffs, still glaring, but straightening once more.

“No, you don't,” River answers calmly as she extends a hand. “Let me see that hand.”

But the Doctor doesn't take the offer, simply looking away from River and undoing the bandages himself, scowling like a child who has been forced to do his homework instead of playing. River deflates, her smile turning sad, and Amy puffs herself up indignantly.

“Can you be any more of an asshole? We're just trying to help!” she protests, hands on her hips, but he doesn't even look up.

“What help can you be? Do you know the kind of power needed to keep that bulkhead sealed and the lights stable, Amy? I had to channel the drive burn radiation to do it, and that? Definitely not enough to kill a Time Lord, especially not when armored, but by Omega's Holy Hands, it _hurt._ And do you want to know something else about drive burn radiation?” he asks mockingly, though he drops the tone as he finally gets rid of the last strip of burnt and bloodied bandage to lift his hand so they all can see. “It _burns.”_

And it did. Amy remembers the damage to the hand from this morning, even if it feels like ages ago, when he'd stepped out of the machinery to go take a shower after his encounter with the Daleks. She remembers the pinkish stretches of new skin covering most of his thumb and index fingers, as well as the part of palm connecting them, the back of the hand and wrapping around the wrist and most of the inside and half of the outside of his forearm. She can't see the forearm now because of the armor, but the scars on the hand are a violent red with speckles of scorched black skin, and all his fingernails are blackened as if someone had slammed a hammer on them.

“It'll heal,” the Doctor tells them after a moment, reaching for a clean swab of gauze from the first aid kit the Cleric still holds so he can wipe the blood off the burns. “They won't impair mobility and strength, if we get to the TARDIS on time, but it'll definitely scar.”

“The scars on his right hand,” Amy whispers under her breath, remembering that conversation with River outside the TARDIS, before the Clerics arrived, and turns to the older woman. “You said your Raggedy Man has scars on his right hand,” she adds, wide-eyed, and River gives her a tight-lipped smile that looks more like a grimace instead.

“Did she now?” the Doctor asks threateningly, too vibrant amber-green eyes fixed on River and completely still, the blood-stained gauze held over the injury in a white-knuckled grip. “It appears congratulations are in order, Doctor Song. As it turns out, you actually know me from my future,” he adds, the last sentence accompanied by a humorless smirk, and Amy grimaces, realizing that, instead of trusting River further after that confirmation, the Doctor is now even more wary and hostile instead. “Now find us a way through that forest so that I can get to whatever made me think associating with you was a good idea,” he orders not without a cutting dose of sarcasm in his words, before turning away dismissively as he reaches for the clean bandages and starts to wrap his hand.

“I can't wait to see that,” River answers softly with another sad smile, and, when Amy opens her mouth to reassure her or chastise the Doctor, River puts her hand on her shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. “It's alright. We both know how much of an idiot he can be. Let's focus on getting out now, alright?” she asks Amy softly, and, with a huff, Amy nods.

As soon as River rejoins Father Octavian, Amy rounds on the Doctor.

“Seriously? She's trying to help, you know,” she scolds, hands on her hips once more, but he doesn't look up, carefully bandaging each and every finger.

“So? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Amelia. Do you know how much blood has been spilled 'trying to help'?” he asks with a scowl, glaring at the bandages but not focusing on them. “'Trying to help' is what got you here, what got _us_ here. Every time I 'try to help' it ends in death. Don't hold up much hope.”

Amy stills, whatever answer she had been preparing vanishing like mist under the sun.

_“Every time I 'try to help' it ends in death.”_

That's terrifyingly specific. But even more so is the tone in which it was spoken. Calm, nonchalant, unbothered.

The very same tone Amy would use to say the sky is blue.

“Time Lord, there's an exit, far end of the ship, into the Primary Flight Deck,” River calls before Amy can think past that, catching their attention. “We're plotting a safe path now.”

“Good. Hurry up,” the Doctor calls back, tying the bandages and flexing his fingers with a small grimace, glaring at the tiny splotches of orange-red that taint the white at the movement.

A radio crackles and they all tense.

“Doctor? Excuse me? Hello, Doctor?” a voice calls through the radio, and Father Octavian quickly joins them once more to hand it over to the Raggedy Man. “Angel Bob here, Sir.”

“Get lost. I've nothing to say to you,” the Doctor answers before tossing the radio back to a stunned Father Octavian, who manages to catch it with a bit of a fumble.

“Seriously?” Amy hisses at him, but the Doctor turns around, frowning softly and – is he _sniffing?_

“The Angels are wondering what you hope to achieve,” comes out of the radio as if the Doctor hadn't spoken, but he just rolls his eyes and starts to prowl around the room, glaring at the walls as if he was looking for something, shaking his head and blinking every now and then as if dizzy. “Doctor, Sir?”

The Doctor snarls and rounds on them, closing the distance with two long steps that make Amy and the Cleric move back while Father Octavian tenses, but the Time Lord just snatches the radio back.

“What are you lot doing? Oh, forget about me, you know _exactly_ what I want, and it's to leave this disgusting place. But what in Skaro's radioactive flames are you bunch of rock-brained _idiots_ doing?” he hisses into the radio, glaring at the door they came through, and Amy exchanges a startled and confused look with the Cleric.

What is he talking about?

“I'm afraid I don't understand the question, Sir.”

“You're tangling space and time up, shredding it and stitching it like a _blind monkey._ What for? What are you planning to achieve with that?” he snarls, but while there's only anger and threat in his voice there's also fear in his eyes.

“That is not the Angels' doing, Sir.”

“Then whose is it?”

“You haven't noticed yet, Sir? The Doctor in the TARDIS hasn't noticed.”

And the most awful screeching echoes from all around them.

“Oh my God! What is that noise?!” Amy exclaims, jumping in surprise and stepping closer to the Doctor, who bristles like a startled cat.

In fact, Amy could almost swear he _hisses_ too, but she can't be sure with all the noise.

“It's hard to put in your terms, Miss Pond, but as best I understand it, the Angels are laughing,” Angel Bob answers, as calmly as any other time, and Amy gulps before recovering her cool.

“Maybe they should have it looked at, I think they need some honey for their throats,” she quips, and this time she's _sure_ the Doctor snorts at her back.

“Weeping Angels laugh, and _that_ is what you have to say?” he asks and, when she feels him shift, she turns to meet his amused gaze. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“And here I thought it's because I give you food every time you drop by my place,” she huffs, straightening self-importantly, and the Raggedy Man's smirk widens into a smile. “You're just like a stray cat. Maybe I should call you Mittens next.”

Instead of laughing as expected, though, the Doctor's amusement vanishes in a blink as he rounds on the wall opposite the forest.

The metal of the bulkhead over the entrance starts to sizzle and light up, glowing softly, and Amy grabs the Raggedy Man's arm even as the Clerics step closer to them, all of them now staring at it.

“Is it them?” Amy whispers, trying very hard not to blink, no matter how much the light makes her eyes itch.

“It's worse,” the Doctor answers just as softly, and Amy tightens her grip—

The light concentrates into a jagged line and starts to push apart, and Amy freezes.

“That's—That's like the crack from my bedroom wall from when I was a little kid,” Amy finally manages to say, kind of expecting to hear that terrifying _Prisoner Zero has escaped,_ even though the other half of her brain is telling her that the Doctor already sorted that out.

The Raggedy Man pulls his arm out of Amy's grip and, using one of the wheeled boxes the Clerics pushed away from the forest wall as a stool, examines the crack from closer up.

“It is,” he confirms, wide-eyed yet also intent, after some sniffing and much head-twisting, but never touching the crack. “Two parts of space and time that should have never connected. But what is it doing here?”

“Clerics, Time Lord, we found a path!” Father Octavian calls, and Amy twists around to see River hop back to her side while the Clerics join their commander. “We have to move out.”

“Yes, sure, go. I'll catch up later,” the Doctor answers after a brief look back, immediately returning his attention back to the crack.

“But—”

“River, get Amy out of here. If anything happens to her before I catch up to you—”

“Insert worst threat I can think of right now, and disregard it because it will be ten times worse, I know,” River answers, grabbing Amy's arm but not trying to move her. “Are you sure you'll be alright?”

“No. Now, move!” he barks and, before Amy can protest, River finally pulls her away.

“No, we can't leave him! River, we can't!” she protests, but River's grip is far stronger than she anticipated.

“I know, Amy, I do. But the longer it takes us to leave, the later he'll go back to examining that crack. And the more he delays on finding whatever he's looking for, the closer the Angels will be. So, the sooner we get out of his focus, the sooner he'll join us,” River explains, but her eyes are tight with worry and fear.

Amy takes a couple deep breaths and one last look over her shoulder as they catch up to the Clerics, but she can no longer see the entrance to the forest.

“Right. Yes, of course, you're right. And it'll be alright. I mean, you know him from the future and he has just met you, so that means he'll definitely make it out alright so you two can meet again. Nothing to worry about,” she finally manages to say, though, mostly, Amy's trying to reassure herself.

River's pained look doesn't go away.

“It doesn't work like that. Time can be rewritten. He can die here and he will never get the chance to know me,” River whispers, and Amy stumbles on a root in surprise. “Are you alright?”

“But you remember him, right? That has to mean he's still alive, he can't be dead!” Amy protests, grabbing the arm River used to catch her tightly, but when the older woman hesitates, Amy stops in her tracks. “No, we have to wait for him, make sure he's alright.”

“Miss Pond, Doctor Song, there's no time for that,” Father Octavian orders from a bit further ahead, with the Clerics standing with their backs to them to keep an eye on the forest for any incoming Angels. “Our mission is to make this wreckage safe and neutralize the Angels. Until that is achieved—”

“Father Octavian, when the Doctor's in the room, your one and only mission is to keep him alive long enough to get everyone else home,” River interrupts, strong and firm and with enough _certainty_ to immediately mute the Bishop. “And trust me, it's not easy. Now, if he's dead back there, I'll never forgive myself. And if he's alive, I'll never forgive him. And… Please, someone tell me he's standing right behind me,” she adds, her voice going soft with her last sentence.

As one, Father Octavian and Amy look back, towards the Flight Deck, while River stands tense, holding her breath.

Amy's breath hitches as her grip on River's arm tightens.

“The Angels are here,” she whispers, voice strangled, and River's exhale sounds almost like a sob.

“Keep looking at them. I'll guide you,” River finally says before resuming her walk, an arm around Amy's waist and the other resting against her back, so that she's almost hugging her to her side and they can walk more securely despite Amy going backwards.

“Let's move, men. We need to get to that control room as soon as possible,” Father Octavian orders as they catch up to him, with Amy trying really hard to keep looking at the two Angels she can see behind the tree trunks. “And may God be with us.”

The silence that falls over them after that is tense, broken only by their slow footsteps on moss and leaves, and the occasional rush of an Angel moving unseen through the undergrowth.

They encounter them as they close in, at their sides, in front of them, and, for better maneuverability, Amy ends up being carried like a child in the arms of one of the Clerics, Marco, so she can keep an eye behind them without tripping. This means he has to put his weapon down, but as the Doctor told them back in the catacombs, it isn't like they can use them to kill the Angels anyway.

“Do you still remember him?” Amy finally asks when the tension is getting to be too much, but doesn't turn to try and find River when there's no answer.

“I do. There's no way I could ever forget that man,” River finally tells her from further ahead, and Amy blinks as fast as she can and tries not to tear up.

The Angels she was staring at are now one tree trunk closer, despite her best efforts, and quickly catching up.

“Even if he's dead?”

This time, there's no answer at all.

But it can't be. It just can't be. Amy can feel it, in River's silence, in the tension in Marco's body, in the tightness in Father Octavian's voice when he tells his Clerics to watch the patches of Angels they come across until they are at their backs and Amy can keep an eye on them. No one, regardless of the impression the Raggedy Man gave them, wants to believe he could truly be dead.

If the Raggedy Doctor, the last of the Time Lords, a time-traveling alien capable of turning _hope_ into _reality,_ is dead, what can they, mere humans, do?

“I've got Angels here,” one of the Clerics at the front calls, Phillip, Amy thinks his name is, and the whole group shuffles away from the direction he pointed out.

“Here too, Sir. They're closing in,” another Cleric, possibly Pedro, says not a moment later, and Amy feels Marco slow for a bit as the others adjust their formation, though he doesn't stop.

“Years ago, there was a crack in the wall of a little girl's bedroom,” Amy whispers, and feels Marco shift so he can listen to her more closely. “At night, voices would come out of it, louder and louder, talking about prisoners and escapees. The little girl was so scared that she prayed for a solution, for someone to come and fix it. And the Doctor came. He appeared out of nowhere in a blue police box, cooked dinner, and whined like a child when it came to fixing the crack, but in the end, he closed the crack and promised he'd capture the escaped criminal. But he didn't. He left,” she continues, slightly louder when she realizes she has the attention of everyone in the group.

“Father Octavian, there are Angels further ahead. Three – no, five, six… Sir, they're all over the place,” one of the Clerics, Crispin, since his voice doesn't match the other two from before, informs, and, this time, the group stops.

“We're surrounded,” Father Octavian whispers, and Amy blinks and swallows when the six Angels she had been keeping an eye on suddenly double.

And the trees, which had been lighting the way, start to flicker.

“He said he would be back in five minutes, but he never came back,” Amy says instead, continuing her story louder than before, enough that even the Angels can hear from their positions, slowly closing in with every blink and turn of the head. “And the little girl grew up and forgot about him, believing he had been nothing but a dream, an imaginary friend. But he hadn't been, and neither was the escaped prisoner. And when the prison guards finally caught up to the escapee, when they threatened to destroy the whole planet if the escapee didn't surrender, the Doctor came back. He tracked down the escapee, immobilized it, and gave it back to the prison guards. But he didn't let them leave after that, he called the prison guards back. He told them everyone was important, and that just because no one could see, it didn't mean they could do whatever they pleased and threaten planets. He told them that others had tried to do as them, to do bad things because they thought they could get away with them, but that they hadn't got away with them because someone had been there to stop them. The Doctor. And he told the guards his name and they ran away to never return,” she adds with a smile, and hears River chuckle while Marco lets out a soundless 'whoa' that she can feel in the slump of his shoulders.

“They're closing in.”

“The treeborgs are going out.”

“Weapons primed. Combat distance five feet,” Father Octavian orders, and Amy is finally put down and pushed into the center of the ring of Clerics, next to River, as the men put up their weapons and aim at the circle of Angels surrounding them. “Keep your position.”

“And then, the Doctor left again, only to return once more for that little girl he met years before, to apologize for being late and to offer her a trip to make up for it,” Amy continues, holding onto River's hand as tightly as she can, but doesn't let the fear take over the story or her voice. “They went to the past and to the future, met Queens and Prime Ministers, scientists and priests, space whales and cyborgs. There was war and peace, they laughed and cried, but the one thing the little girl never, _ever_ did, was despair. Because she knew the Doctor would get her home, safe and sound, no matter what. The Doctor would find a way to defeat the most terrifying enemies, to get out of the most dreadful situations, to make it past the worst dangers in the universe,” she adds with all of the conviction flooding her chest easy to hear, all of the surety that her words are _true,_ and that the Doctor will save them all.

For a moment, Amy gets rid of all of the fear she felt before and just _hopes._

The next instant, a bright white light floods the forest, and Amy closes her eyes—

And snaps them open again, because there are Angels all around, she can't just look away from them or they will get them and kill them and—

“The Angels have gone! Where'd they go?” Pedro exclaims, too startled to observe propriety.

“This side's clear too, Sir,” Phillip tells them a second later, just as surprised but more collected than his fellow Cleric.

“There's still movement out there, but away from us now,” Marco informs, exchanging a confused look with Crispin. “It's like they're running.”

Amy smiles.

“I knew it! Raggedy Man, you did it! I don't know what you did, but you did it!” she calls happily, turning to River to see she's smiling too in both relief and pride, before she turns to the light. “Come on, what did you do?”

But no answer comes.

Amy frowns in confusion and shuffles around a bit while the Clerics spread towards the trees to make sure the Angels are really gone, trying to catch a glimpse of the Doctor against the blinding white light—

It's not the Doctor.

“It's the same shape. It's the crack in my wall,” Amy whispers with a tremulous breath, and feels rather than sees River stepping up to her side. “It's following me. How can it be following me?” she asks, louder this time, turning to face River, who has her computer out and a frown on her face.

“It looks like some kind of curtain of energy, but these readings… Whatever it is, it scared the Angels. There are very few things that could do that.”

“Phillip, Crispin, get a closer look at that,” Father Octavian orders once they receive the all clear from all four Clerics, and the two named ones go towards the crack with a 'yes, Sir'. “Doctor Song, what's the verdict?”

“I'm still analyzing it, but whatever it is, it wasn't caused by the crash, or by anything on this ship. The readings are off the scale, so high even the Angels, who feed on energy, ran away,” River answers, still tapping away at her mini-computer, before looking up at Father Octavian. “We need to get to the Primary Flight Deck, rendezvous with the Time Lord. The Angels are still around, and now there's this thing to deal with. The sooner we are out of here, with better instruments than these, the better,” she adds, waving her tiny computer, and Father Octavian's jaw tightens almost as if he wants to protest before finally nodding.

“What assurances do we have that the Doctor is still alive?” he asks, and River stops tapping at her computer to give him the same burning stare that Amy is sending his way.

“The only one you ever need. Trust. I absolutely trust the Doctor,” River answers, firm, unbending, as if she had delivered a pile of documents with every single reason why trusting the Doctor is a good idea, when, in truth, the only reason anyone needs is trust itself.

“He could be dead.”

“And he could not be.”

Father Octavian is silent for a moment more, before finally stepping away with a huff.

“Marco, take this and Pedro and investigate that light. Give me one of you radios too. Keep us informed of any developments, and meet us at the Primary Flight Deck,” he orders, stepping up to the other two Clerics, who nod and exchange a radio for the computer being offered to them.

“Hang on. What about the other two? Why not just wait until they're back?” Amy asks, frowning, because she may not be part of a militarized Church or have much experience in this kind of situation, but she's pretty sure splitting the group more than it already is could be dangerous.

“What other two?” Father Octavian asks even as Marco and Pedro march off towards the crack, and Amy exchanges a frown with River.

“The ones you sent before, Phillip and Crispin,” she answers, lifting an eyebrow in disappointment.

They are all stressed, but this is ridiculous.

“Miss Pond, there was never a Phillip or a Crispin on this mission, I assure you. Now, we need to get to the Primary Flight Deck before the Angels return. Whatever scared them might not keep them away for long, and, no matter what Doctor Song says, as far as I'm concerned, there's only the three of us left,” he tells them as seriously as before, and Amy feels herself go cold.

“What about Marco and Pedro?” River asks this time, voice soft and hand squeezing Amy's reassuringly, and Father Octavian frowns down at her.

“I am afraid you must have confused some names, Doctor Song. Only the four of us entered this ship, and the Doctor is missing now. So, I suggest we make due haste to the Primary Flight Deck,” the Bishop answers and, without waiting another second, turns his back to them and starts in the direction they were first going. “Our mission is to dispose of the Angels. Once that task is completed, we'll send for reinforcements and investigate that light.”

“But they were here a moment ago! Phillip, Crispin, Pedro and Marco, they were here! Marco carried me, they were here and he can't remember now,” Amy hisses to River, who pulls her after Father Octavian by the hand.

“I know, Amy, I know! I remember them too, but Father Octavian doesn't. Think, what do the four of them have in common?” she asks, meeting her eyes firmly after a look around to make sure there really aren't any Angels around.

“They went to investigate the crack. But the crack in my wall, it didn't – it didn't do _that._ It linked the Atraxi prison with my house, it didn't _eat_ people,” she explains hurriedly, also looking around a moment, just in case, as they are now moving away from the crack which scared the Angels away.

“And you and me, we are both time travelers. Father Octavian isn't. So, he has forgotten them, but we haven't. Traveling in time changes you, even if you don't notice. You are not of the current timeline, and so you are detached from it, you can notice when something changes or isn't as it should, as long as it doesn't affect you personally. And, even if it did, it takes a while for the new timeline to cement, so you would recognize the differences and maybe have time to reverse the changes,” River explains, focusing on Amy as she does, though Amy can only stare at her in bewilderment.

So intent are they on their conversation, though, that they notice Father Octavian has stopped just in time to avoid bumping into his back.

“The Angels are back,” he informs them, and as soon as the words are out, the two women move to stand back to back with him to see that, yes, the Angels are back and are all around them. “This would be a good time for the Doctor to show up,” he adds, pressing what feels like a radio into Amy's hands so he can aim his gun at the approaching statues.

“Agreed,” River says, also lifting her weapon, and Amy fumbles for a moment with the radio, not turning away from the Angels, until it crackles.

“Time Lord, if you can hear me, we really need some help now,” she calls into the radio, trying to keep her voice composed but failing as, every time she moves her head, she sees more and more statues moving closer to them. “Time Lord… Raggedy Man, come on!”

An Angel is reaching for her, almost close enough to touch—

The world twists out of focus, the ground vanishing, and Amy collapses onto her side with a shriek.

“It got me! Oh my God, the Angel got me!” Amy shouts, trying to find her balance to get back to her feet before the Angel can _finish_ her, like it did Bob and Christian and Angelo, and hears Father Octavian grunt at one side while River curses at the other—

“Afraid so, my dear Amelia,” a voice says from over her, and Amy freezes and looks up into relieved amber-green eyes and an amused smirk. “Your very own Guardian Angel.”

“Raggedy Man!” she shouts in relief, though it comes out almost like a sob, as she throws herself into his chest.

She misses, coordination still shot from whatever the Doctor did to get the three of them in this Flight Deck, but the Raggedy Man bends down fast enough to catch her into a hug of his own, bringing her to her feet as he straightens. He feels warm around her, but Amy is not sure if it is because he's actually feverish, she's in shock or it's a result of their transport method, so she decides to ignore it for the moment and buries her face in the crook of his neck. The cape actually makes it quite comfy, and with the strong arm around her waist keeping her on her feet and the hand softly massaging the back of her neck, she can feel herself finally calming down.

“You're late,” she huffs into the cape, a smile on her lips, and feels him snort soundlessly.

“You'd think you'd be used to it by now,” he whispers back, the grin clear in his voice, and Amy finally pulls away to give him _a look._

“Are you seriously going to make a habit of it?”

“Are you seriously going to make a habit of getting in the most ridiculous trouble?” he retorts, grin sharpening, and Amy steps away from him with a huff, jerking her head up dismissingly.

“I'm not the one who stayed behind to stare at a crack.”

“No, you're the one who had to be _rescued_ by the man who stayed behind to stare at a crack,” he quips back, leaning almost casually against the console at his back with a knowing smirk, and Amy blushes as she glares at him—

He's flushed, eyes red as if irritated, eyelids drooping and bags darkening under his eyes, and his hands shake before he rests them on the edge of the console to help him stay on his feet.

“My Knight in Shining Armor,” River huffs with some breathless laughter, standing up and dusting herself, distracting Amy from the Raggedy Man's state.

River gives the Doctor a wink and a grin, though there's a softness to her eyes that speaks of just how relieved she is to see him—which immediately turns to worry, though she doesn't speak.

“Thank you for the prompt rescue, Doctor,” Father Octavian interrupts, also getting to his feet and holstering his gun once more. “What is the plan now?”

“Well, we're in the Primary Flight Deck. I managed to reroute enough power to the teleport to bring the three of you here, but the radiation interferes too much with it to get us out. Also, what is that _thing_ in the oxygen factory, and where are the other Clerics?” the Doctor asks River with a furrowed brow, gesturing to a wall much like the one in the Secondary Flight Deck, behind which Amy assumes there's the forest.

“Just check this and tell me if you can make any sense out of this data,” River answers with pursed lips, offering her tiny computer. “What happened in the other Flight Deck? How did you get out?”

And the Doctor grins, sharp and full of dark amusement, and lowers his head just enough that the shadows cast by the gesture make it look as if his amber-green eyes are glowing.

“I ran.”

* * *

Koschei can hear River reassuring Amy as they leave the Secondary Flight Deck, telling her that, by sticking around, they'd just distract him and delay him, and so it's best if they just go away.

He's torn between protesting that he would _not_ get distracted by a pair of puny humans and relieved that River is not giving him a chance to test whether his pride is right, and so he just pushes the thought away and focuses on the crack – and tries to ignore how they have _him_ call it a crack too now, instead of the spatiotemporal rift that it is.

This one is different, not the same one he found in Amelia's bedroom wall, in more ways than one. For starters, this one is newer, it literally opened in front of their eyes. And, the next point, this one is more of a _temporal_ fissure than a spatial rift. He can smell it, how the universe is not the same on the other side, how it isn't Alfava Metraxis, but the _temporal signature_ is all wrong too.

More worryingly is the fact that he can't identify it, but it feels extremely familiar. And it isn't a matter of days or years or even decades. He isn't sure even which _century_ it is supposed to be, though something tells him it's probably way out of any human calendar.

Or, now that the thought crossed his mind, maybe it isn't in _any_ calendar at all.

And that's when it dawns.

“The end of the universe,” he whispers, eyes snapping open in realization as he finally pinpoints why it feels so familiar.

He may not have spent more time than strictly necessary in the year one hundred trillion as a Time Lord, but the stench it had left on him from his life there as a human was hard to get rid of – metaphorically _and_ literally. It had taken the Master two thorough washes with Lucy's fancy soap to stop smelling of a mixture of burnt electronics, Malmooth shed scales and gluten extract, with _just_ a dash of artron energy and the characteristic blend that was, simply, _the Doctor._

Still, one way or another, he _knows_ that what's at the other side of this crack is definitely something he wants _nothing_ to do with.

_“We have all the power we need in that vessel.”_

Koschei looks down – and almost jumps off the container in fright at the sight of a roomful of Weeping Angels reaching for him.

“Talk about getting distracted on the job,” he manages to choke out, bristling and slowly edging away from the closest Angel while trying to keep an eye on all the others at the same time. “And talk about mixing apples and oranges! You idiots think you can feed out of _this?”_ he asks the Angels with a scoff, voice devoid of the nervousness and slight panic he's feeling inside, as he gestures at the crack and carefully jumps behind the crate. “That's pure time energy! The fires at the end of the universe! I would know, I've been there! _Nothing_ can sustain itself on that!”

Yet, even as he says it, Koschei realizes he's wrong. The _fires_ at the end of the universe? He was there, there's no _fire_ at the end of the universe, all the stars have gone cold! The universe collapses, freezes, it burns _cold._ And _time energy?_ What kind of time energy could there be at _the end of everything?_ There can't be any! All of it has been spent, and the universe doesn't rewind itself!

And still, that's what it is, the crack and the universe on the other side. The fires at the end of the universe. Pure time energy.

But _how?_

… And how is he going to get out of _this_ now?

Angels wherever he looks, closing in with every nanosecond, and, no matter how much he decides to just break the rules and go all out, not even an unshackled Time Lord can get past an army of Weeping Angels—

Alone.

“Need a hand?” Theta asks by his side, and, before he can think about it, Koschei turns to face the other side of the room to keep those Angels at bay.

“More like a couple more eyes,” he answers, and, when he doesn't feel his neck snapping the second after, he knows it's _working._

Two Time Lords can keep the Angels at bay by virtue of having enough eyes to keep them all in sight. Of course, there aren't two Time Lords, not here nor anywhere else in the universe – but _the Angels_ don't know that.

Koschei's merely projecting, using the uncertainty fibers of the cape, those that fluctuate through dimensions, for _substance,_ giving Theta's ghost a voice and a presence by modulating part of his dimensions and channeling life energy through the cape, and _it's working._ The Angels think Theta an actual person, believe his awareness to be someone's gaze, and, with all the power and presence of an unshackled armored Time Lord behind it, their quantum-locking instinct is triggered.

As long as Theta is there, watching them, the Angels are nothing but stone. Koschei just needs to keep up this new circulation of life energy through the distorted dimensions and the cape, which will be annoying and will probably give him an awful cramp once this is over, but which, thanks to the armor lining distilling artron energy out of the surrounding drive burn radiation, won't be too exhausting. Using too much of it, like what he did to keep the lights stable and the bulkhead closed, would be extremely painful and dangerous, and this situation would be the same if he had to literally split himself in half to operate the dimensional growth and sapience of the cape… But he has Theta. Whatever the ghost is, he's enough to operate a Time Lord's dimensional growth, allowing Koschei to keep all partitions of his brain in his actual head.

This actually gives more weight to Theta being a remnant of the Doctor instead of an imprint of memory, which would mean he may actually, _truly,_ hold some of the actual Doctor's memories, but Koschei pushes the thought away. Angels now, Amy later, everything else hopefully _never._

“If that's so, I don't need legs then,” Theta comments almost casually, and the specter loses his legs alongside his eyelids, dimensional tendrils modulated just enough that they don't feel like Koschei's own linking with Koschei's as a cool back presses against his own. “You lead, I watch your back. Like old times!”

“Like old times,” Koschei agrees with a grin that breaks into the sixth dimension, cracking at the edges to turn jagged and toothy, and time-locks his eyelids into the fourth dimension so that he doesn't need to blink for as long as there are still Angels around.

It will probably leave him with the worst case of itchy eyes he's suffered since before he took over Tremas of Traken, after his first regeneration cycle ran out, but who cares? Right now, surviving is his priority.

So, anchoring Theta to his back, Koschei locates the closest door—the forest is overrun, he can _feel_ them there even if his height doesn't let him _see_ them—and jumps over the Angels surrounding him, somersaulting so that he keeps them in sight at all times, and latching onto the bulkhead with claws that, once upon a time, belonged to a Cheetah-infected body of his, and which are sharp enough to pierce through the metal and let him swing himself into the clearer, though not empty, corridor.

“Did you give yourself a tail for a specific reason, or was it a slip?” Theta asks mockingly from his back, and Koschei feels his face grow hot and his time feelers bristle and curl over themselves in embarrassment even as he snarls with sharper teeth than he intended to have.

“For balance, you idiot. Do you think that just because you're legless it means you aren't heavy? Your ego weights enough for the two of us,” he protests with a huff that is more animalistic than he would have preferred, focusing on zigzagging past the reaching forms of the frozen Angels instead of trying to shift _that_ part of his anatomy away.

Right now, the tail—tails, actually, because if he's going to have a tail at least it can be the triple whip-like ones of his Tohili body, back when he'd needed a new and unrecognizable identity to erase the Master's name from the Shadow Proclamation's black list due to the _incident_ that led to that regeneration— _is_ useful as balance, the feathered fans at the end also helping when he needs to sharply slow down, no matter how much of an excuse it was when he actually said that out loud.

“Nah, I'm pretty sure all that extra weight is your superiority complex,” Theta answers nonchalantly, but Koschei's sonic feelers twitch at the huff of laughter hidden under his words.

“You mean _your_ superiority complex. I am the very picture of humble,” Koschei purrs—literally, the sound rolling through his chest and making his feelers shiver and tinkle—and Theta laughs out loud this time.

“That's the joke of the century!”

“Is it now? Because I seem to remember someone calling me a genius, and stellar, and magnificent, while I was sincerely saying I had just tried to do my best…”

“Ah, but good old Professor Yana _was_ magnificent!”

“And where do you think all that brilliance came from, you pillock?” Koschei mock-scowls, slowly peeling away all the possibilities and temporally-displaced features as the crowd of Angels starts to thin, so he can try to orientate himself with the energy he used to stabilize his dissonant anatomy – and his purring.

If Theta heard just how much he was actually purring, Koschei would never live that down, ghost or not.

“Alright, yes, that is a good point,” Theta concedes with a huff and an almost audible pout, and Koschei cackles triumphantly. “Oh, but another good point… If that brilliance was yours, does that mean the kindness was too?”

And Koschei trips as he chokes on his laughter and protests, and decides to just focus on running from now on, muttering insults under his breath as Theta laughs at his back.

Some twisting and turning later, Koschei manages to find a working holomap, locate the Primary Flight Deck, and, after a couple more bulkheads and the twist of a nanosecond that blows up a pipe to collapse the whole corridor behind him now instead of in three hours, Koschei rushes into the Flight Deck with no Angels anywhere close.

“Alright, now it's your turn!” Theta chirps, stretching on his back, and Koschei needs a moment to process those words before he shakes himself back into a more tridimensional-conforming standard. “Good luck.”

“Do you really think I'll need that?” Koschei asks, but with himself folding back, Theta's ghost decides to relinquish his grip on reality and pops away without answering. “Right. Good luck to me.”

And his eyes land on the teleport.

With a sharp grin growing on his face, Koschei unclips the radio from his waist and connects it to the teleport before he gets to work, hoping he can reboot it from the overload it suffered when he unfolded, and that he's still in time to locate and teleport Amy, River and the Clerics to the Primary Flight Deck before the Angels get to them.

And then, maybe they'll be able to tell him why his end-of-the-universe feeling keeps getting stronger so much faster than before despite having left the crack behind.

* * *

“I ran,” the Raggedy Man answers simply with a dark grin, which makes River huff and roll her eyes.

Amy is about to insist on an explanation, because he obviously didn't escape through the forest and all the corridors were supposed to be full of Angels, but River's computer beeps at that very moment, distracting them.

The Doctor looks at the screen – and goes pale as a ghost.

“What's wrong?” River asks, and the Doctor presses a couple buttons before shoving the computer back in her hands and moving back to the controls. “Oh.”

“River? What's wrong?” Amy asks, trying to see over her shoulder, but the older woman pockets the device before she can make sense of the brief flash she got of its screen.

“It's not relevant right now. Let's focus on the issue of the Angels first, alright?” River suggests with a pretty convincing reassuring smile, but Amy is more than a little suspicious.

Still, the crackling of the radio is enough to distract them from anything else.

“That was a most peculiar escape, Doctor,” Angel Bob says as soon as the Doctor picks up the radio, and River takes over the controls to check over blueprints and spreadsheets of information Amy can't make sense of.

“I'm sure you enjoyed the show, but let's skip the pleasantries, shall we? Isn't this energy _exactly_ what the Angels wanted? You have no use for us anymore, right? Are you ready to let us go?” the Raggedy Man asks mockingly, smirking sharply, and Amy frowns, wondering if he's talking about the crack.

“You know the Angels won't let you escape, Doctor. It doesn't matter how much you plead, Sir, your time is running out,” Angel Bob answers, still as eerily calm as before, and the Doctor's grin vanishes, replaced by a calculating frown.

“Time is running out,” he repeats softly, emotionlessly, and Amy and River exchange a look to see if any of them has any idea about what may be running through his head.

“Indeed, Sir. But the Angels have need of you still.”

“Time is running out. It can shift, change, it can be rewritten,” he whispers, ignoring the radio that he's slowly lowering, and, this time, even Father Octavian gives him a weird look. “Oh. That's why,” he adds with the softest voice yet, shuddering and wide-eyed.

“Doctor, Sir? The Angels need you,” Angel Bob repeats, and _that_ snaps the Doctor back to the present.

“What? As a snack? I think they have more important things to worry about. They're in the forest, all of them. A forest of Angels. A forest of Angels with a spatiotemporal rift to the end of the universe going right through it, widening, casting a Time Field that destroys reality as it expands. Soon, the little Forest of the Angels will have never existed. What do the Angels need me for when they should be running for their lives?” he hisses into the radio, bristling and glaring at the bulkhead, and, this time, Amy meets River's eyes with realization.

The crack is erasing the universe. Crispin, Pedro, Phillip and Marco touched the crack and were erased, they never even _existed._ It's hard to wrap one's mind around such a concept, but Amy can't help but feel the truth of it. Why would Father Octavian not remember them? It's one thing to disappear without a trace, but to have _never existed in the first place?_

An alarm blares and, a moment later, the wall slides up to reveal the forest – and a veritable army of Angels spreading through it, all of them reaching for the Flight Deck.

“Oh my God. What just happened?” Amy asks, eyes wide as she takes a step back and tries to keep the Angels in sight.

“The Angels are draining the last of the ship's power,” River announces as she steps away from the computers. “All remaining systems are failing. The teleport is dead.”

“The Angels calculate that if you throw yourself in the time rupture, Doctor, it will close and they will be saved,” Angel Bob finally answers, and Amy can't help but glance quickly at the wall of light shining through the trees.

It has definitely grown since they were teleported here.

“And why would I do _that?”_ the Doctor hisses in disgust, hands clenching around the radio and the edge of the console.

“Your friends will also be saved.”

“Ony for you to kill them the moment the crack closes,” the Raggedy Man huffs, and Amy gulps and takes yet another slow step back.

It definitely doesn't look good.

“I've travelled in time,” River blurts, and Amy sees her turn to the Doctor from the corner of her eye. “I'm a complicated space time event. Throw me in.”

“No!” Amy protests, turning to grab River's hand before she can think better of it, but neither the Doctor nor Father Octavian look away from the Angels.

“Puh-lease. Compared to me, these Angels are more complicated than you, and it would take every one of them to amount to me, so get a grip,” the Doctor scoffs derisively, clipping the radio to his belt.

“Okay, that's insulting, you could have definitely said it better,” Amy scolds, but doesn't let go of River's hand. “You heard him, River. We'll find another way.”

“And fast, if you please,” Father Octavian adds, weapon once more in hand.

“Humans, seriously, do you need to dramatize everything? You could at least make it a good show. Get a grip,” the Doctor repeats, waving a hand towards the handles on some of the modules.

River tenses with a soft 'oh' before immediately jerking Amy towards them and wrapping her hands around the handles with a bright smile.

_Get a grip._

_“The Angels are draining the last of the ship's power. All remaining systems are failing.”_

_“And, since the ship crashed with its engines running, all systems are still online, including gravity,”_

Amy smiles back and looks at the Doctor, who is pushing Father Octavian to another console, which the Bishop grabs tightly with his free hand, the other still aiming a gun at the Angels.

“Sir, the Angels need you to sacrifice yourself now,” Angel Bob calls through the radio attached to the Doctor's belt, but the Raggedy Man doesn't bother reaching for it, simply snorting and grinning down at the Angels.

“You greedy little things. For such long-lived creatures, you have a really short memory, you know? Oh well. See you on the other side,” he chirps happily, going as far as to wave a hand—

And, with a shudder, the world _twists._

Amy's feet leave the floor and her stomach lurches as she watches the Angels fall backwards, into the crack—

Something grabs her ankle in a crushing grip and Amy screams in pain as a strong weight rips her hands off the handles—

“Amy!” River shouts, grabbing her wrist impossibly tight, even though that throws her off the module and leaves her hanging from just one hand from the groaning console, and Amy looks down.

Through the tears filling her eyes, Amy manages to recognize a fanged snarl on a face of stone, wings spread wide at the creature's back.

An Angel. It probably sneaked close when River tried to sacrifice herself and Amy looked away, and now Amy is going to be the one thrown into the crack instead.

“ _Amelia!”_ the Raggedy Man screams, heart-wrenching horror and despair clear in his voice, but Amy knows he's too late.

She can feel the weight of the stone Angel dragging her down, how River's grip is slipping despite how tight it is around her wrist, and how much she's straining to keep them attached to the console. In a moment, either Amy will fall or River will lose her grip on the handles and both of them will disappear into the crack.

“May God bless the path that takes you to safety!” Father Octavian shouts, attracting Amy's attention—

The Bishop lets go of his grip on the console, grabbing onto some dangling cables and, finally with a clear shot, aims his gun at the Angel.

Two, three, four bullets – and the Angel's wrist breaks, plummeting the statue into the crack.

“You idiot!” the Doctor shouts, twisting on his precarious position crouching on a console to try and turn towards the Bishop—

Father Octavian smiles even as the cables snap and he falls.

“ _No!”_

The light vanishes. The Doctor scrambles to them at last and hefts River up to the console, grabbing onto Amy so the older woman can pull herself up the rest of the way.

Amy looks down at her ankle, the boot dirtied and scratched but with no sign of the hand that had been wrapped around it a moment ago, despite the throbs of pain she can still feel, and holds as tightly onto the Raggedy Man as he does her.

“He sacrificed himself. For me. Father Octavian sacrificed himself for me, and now no one will ever know he existed,” she whispers when she finally gets her breath back, and River reaches from the console she's sitting on to squeeze Amy's shoulder.

“We remember. And we won't forget him.”

* * *

"Leaving so soon, Doctor Song?" Koschei calls, approaching the group of Clerics surrounding River, unbothered by having interrupted their conversation or having all their eyes on him.

The base at the beach is busy, with another ship having come to the first's aid after they received the message of the army of Angels in the catacombs. Now, already planetary morning, the base is nothing if not a well-oiled machine thanks to Father Augustus and the hierarchy of the Church.

They took it easy when leaving the ship, deciding to climb down the way they came instead of up, since it would have been harder without power or gravity, with Koschei giving Amy a piggyback ride all the while to keep her off her broken ankle. River had proved nimble and athletic, so they had managed to get back to the Maze of the Dead with him only having to catch her once, when they had to drop from the _Byzantium_ to the catacombs. They hadn't talked on the way down, too exhausted mentally and physically to do more than focus on their next hold or Amy's grip around Koschei’s neck. Once in the catacombs, a comment about how there were absolutely no statues of the Aplans in the catacombs, and what a cultural loss it was, had finally broken the silence. That comment, as expected, was River's, archeologist that she is, but it had given Amy the strength to ask about her job, which led to them starting a conversation that cheered both of them up, so Koschei had just rolled his eyes and kept walking, instead of commenting on the uselessness of archaeology for a time traveler.

The Clerics had received them expectant and jittery like penguins on a breaking iceberg, but most surprisingly of all, they had deferred to _Koschei._

Which is why, after dropping Amy with their doctors to have her ankle looked at, and practically finishing the Clerics' reserves of nutritional packages, Koschei is here now, still clad in armor, confronting River and Father Augustus.

"I'm a busy woman, Time Lord. You know how that goes. Places to go, things to do," she answers with a smile and a shrug, completely calm and unbothered by either the Clerics or Koschei's own blank look.

"Oh, I do know. So, which one is it?" he asks, and while Father Augustus frowns in confusion, River's smile turns tense. "Which prison are you locked in?"

"Time Lord, Sir, that's—"

"Did you hear me say your name?" Koschei cuts, and Father Augustus tenses, gulps, and retreats some feet away with his Clerics, giving him and River some privacy. "Wuss. Father Octavian at least had some _nerve."_

"How did you know," River asks softly, mostly ignoring his comment even though there's a shadow of a smile on the curl of her lips.

"You were working with the Church from the very beginning, but when we got out? Father Octavian never existed for them, but they didn't act like any of the other Clerics had been the leader of the expedition. They acted like _I_ was in charge of the whole thing, but I was only here because _you_ brought me in. _You_ should have been their commanding officer, but they never even considered you," he explains, serious, and any hint of humor that had been in River's expression turns to fondness. "Father Octavian didn't let you out of his sight, not when we entered the catacombs and it was just our group. He warned you, before we went further in, didn't he? That's why they left Amy alone, to come find me, when I had given explicit instructions to keep an eye on her. He wasn't your commanding officer, he was your _handler._ This mission required more than the Church had, they needed your expertise and connections. That's why they let you out."

"And the third reason?" River asks, the spark of humor back in her eyes, and Koschei can't help but grin.

"One of Father Augustus' Clerics is toting around a pair of handcuffs."

River chuckles before looking over her shoulder and sending a kiss to the flabbergasted group of Clerics, while Koschei snorts.

"They love their theatrics, don't they?" she asks conversationally after facing him again, and Koschei hums in agreement before vanishing his mirth and giving her a look. "Stormcage. The prison ship's getting in orbit, they'll beam me up as soon as it is. I might have done enough to earn a pardon this time. We'll see," she explains nonchalantly, shrugging, but Koschei doesn't fall for it.

"Why did they imprison you?"

River's smile vanishes but despite her attempts at seriousness, there's a deep sadness in her gaze.

"I killed a man. A very good man. The best man I've ever known."

_“You promised we'd see the stars together. You said you'd help me. You're the Doctor, the man who makes people better. How will I get better without you? You can't go!”_

Koschei flinches, and River gives him a worried look.

"Sweetie?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he asks perhaps a bit too quickly, looking for a way to redirect the topic away from _that._

… Then again, if he really wants people to _stop_ calling him 'Doctor', perhaps he should just _tell them._

But… it hurts. It hurts _so much_ to think about that day, about being so close and yet so far, of winning and losing and being abandoned by _everything_ he ever thought mattered and being accepted by _the only one who had ever mattered at all…_ and then lose him.

The Master had been Gallifrey's scapegoat, their puppet, from the very beginning. But the Doctor still had chosen _him_ over their planet, even at the cost of his life.

How can Koschei just… How can he just look someone in the eye and tell them that the Doctor is dead while the Master lives?

"Mostly because it annoys you," River answers with a grin, tilting her head, and Koschei has to blink a couple times before he remembers what they were talking about.

" _Mostly?_ Are you keeping secrets from me, _Honey?"_ he asks with a grin that mirrors her own, leaning closer as she does the same.

"Always, Sweetie. I learnt from the very best," she purrs, voice lowered so that it's barely more than a whisper and with them now standing almost nose to nose.

"And who would that be? You wouldn't cheat on me, now would you?" he asks as equally softly, glancing over her shoulder to see Father Augustus and his Clerics exchange startled, embarrassed and worried looks.

"Spoilers."

And, with a snort, they finally separate, River chuckling while Koschei grins widely enough that his cheeks hurt.

"Well, you definitely have your wits about you, Doctor Song. That's more than I can say for the majority of your species,” he chuckles, making sure his words carry, and River has the gall to curtsy with a wink. “You should see their faces, they look like toddlers on the verge of a tantrum,” he adds in a whisper as he bows at the waist in answer, looking over her shoulder at the indignant Clerics.

“Who says they aren't?” she retorts with a knowing look, and Koschei is the one to chuckle this time.

Their mirth doesn't last long, gone the moment they straighten. River looks at him, knowing him well enough, apparently, that she can tell when he has something in his mind.

Koschei battles with himself for a moment more before giving in with a huff, looking away at the dark gray sea before finally making up his mind and meeting River’s eyes.

“Come with me.”

Obviously, judging by River's wide-eyed gawk, she hadn't expected that. Koschei would find it hilarious in other circumstances, but he's too focused on everything else right now to do so – though he won't deny the spark of pride in knowing that, no matter how well she might know him in the future, he can still surprise her.

“What?” she asks softly, actually looking over her shoulder herself to make sure the Clerics are still out of hearing range, if observing them attentively, before turning to Koschei almost frantically. “Why would you say that? I thought…”

“That I hated you?” he finishes for her, and knowing he's nailed it when she gives him a _what nonsense are you talking about now_ look to hide the _holy Hell, he knows how did he do that_ which she's feeling inside.

Funny. Amy makes the same face, too, that attempt to be really serious that ends up being too much, with eyes slightly widening. River's better at it, probably has had more practice, since she manages to hide the faint blush Amy can't get rid of.

Meh. Probably a descendant. … Wait, does that mean Amy gets _married?_ Whom to? Or is it just getting together with someone? Does she become _a single mother?_ In a house that big? Raising kids _all alone?_

“Don't you?” River asks, lifting an eyebrow, and Koschei blinks dumbly, brain blank. “I would have said you hated me when we met, but I would like to think we've moved to mere antagonism by now.”

“No. I mean – No, I don't _hate_ you. You're a pain, but you seem to know enough to at least stay quiet about the future,” he elaborates when he realizes what she's talking about, shaking his head to clear his mind. “You saved Amy. At your own risk, you saved her. And you really did look after her every step of the way, even when I wasn't around. So, at the very least, you aren't a liar.”

“I'm still a murderer,” River points out calmly, and Koschei has to give her points for how collected she is.

Regardless of how pained, how haunted, she is by her actions, by the death of the best man she ever knew, River accepts what she did, doesn't try to run or hide.

Koschei feels his lips twist into a humorless half-smile and doesn't stop them.

“So am I. I have killed more and better than you ever could, and for far lesser reasons than you did. And still, do you see me in a prison cell? Do you see handcuffs around my wrists?” he asks her, opening his arms to gesture around, and River's calm fills with pain and sadness directed at him instead of at her thoughts. “I thought so. So, Doctor River Song, I believe you carry punishment enough in your conscience. Come with me. I'll take you somewhere the Church can't get to you, too far back or to a future where your crimes have already prescript. Or simply to a planet beyond their jurisdiction. I'm sure you can figure out a way to erase yourself from their systems without my help.”

And he offers her a hand.

Koschei knows what he looks like now, despite the armor and the face, offering this human all of time and space, but just this moment, he doesn't care if he looks like the Doctor. River has earned this chance, _more than earned it,_ in Koschei's eyes. And how many times did the Doctor pardon the Master? If _he_ could merit redemption, after all he did, this woman more than deserves it.

River looks down at his hand, still startled despite everything they just talked about, but huffs and meets his eyes with happiness in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

“No.”

Koschei blinks, startled, and slowly lowers his hand – and River takes it, carefully, softly, in one of hers, watching as Koschei's hand curls around hers softly without permission from his brain.

She caresses his knuckles, wraps her other hand around his, and brings it to her face so she can press the palm of Koschei's hand into her warm cheek, still smiling happily and meeting his eyes once more.

“No, Sweetie. Not this time. This is a sentence I _want_ to serve,” she explains softly, pressing against his hand but keeping her mind well-shielded enough that, despite the proximity of the feelers in his hands to her brain, he doesn't catch any stray flickers of emotion.

Not that he’s _trying_ to read her mind, but there are things he can always feel even when he doesn’t want to. One of the main reasons for the Master to always wear gloves was to avoid leaving anything behind that could be used to track him. The other was that they were _dampener gloves,_ made to absorb psychic energy and turn it into artron one, much like static, unless the Master reached past them to establish a secure link. The only thing people always notice about his telepathy is how it is strong enough to be used as hypnosis with ease, but never how much of a pain that extra sensitivity can be. Then again, the Doctor’s lack thereof would have been equally painful too. Extremes, the both of them, in almost all aspects.

The Master’s gloves had been of Tharil make. After Romana helped them put themselves together once freed from human slavery, Tharils helped any and all Time Lords regardless of their status on Gallifrey, so, once his Gallifreyan gloves had been destroyed in an unfortunate encounter with acid rain, the Master had made sure to visit them. While Tharils themselves didn’t have much need for dampeners, they had become quite adept at protective gear, to avoid getting caught again, and so it had been easy to modify their gauntlets to fit the Master’s purpose.

Unfortunately, Rassilon had the Tharils exterminated on the first year of the Time War, when they threatened to use the conflict to overthrow the Time Lords, so, with Gallifrey also gone, there will be no more dampener gloves for Koschei other than those belonging to his old Time Lord uniform. Fortunately, without the need to keep the drums at bay nor their noise in his head, Koschei can concentrate a lot better now on keeping his sensitivity low.

Still, one way or another, the fact that River can block her mind so thoroughly _is_ impressive, more so for her human nature.

“You are one intriguing woman, River Song,” Koschei hums after a moment, but nods. “Alright. But the offer still stands. I'm sure you'll find a way to contact me if you change your mind.”

“Definitely,” she answers with a wink before letting his hand go so he can let it hang at his side once more. “You'll see me again quite soon, when the Pandorica opens,” she adds, her smile gaining a touch of mischief, and Koschei doesn't bother hiding his scoff.

“The Pandorica? That's just a legend, a fairy tale. It's no more real than—”

_The Toclafane._

The Toclafane weren't real, nothing but a Gallifreyan boogeyman, but that didn't stop the Master from using the name. So, what if…?

“Oh, I know that face. Spoilers,” River chuckles, amused and excited at the same time, and Koschei huffs and shakes his head.

One mystery at a time.

Which means…

River's cheer turns into a frown, wary and worried both at once, as Koschei sobers, and he can't help but think that she might know what _this_ face is about as well.

“In the TARDIS, when we first met… You said…”

_“Doctor—”_

“… Why?” Koschei asks, hating how his voice breaks and how he can't bring himself to say his name, or make sense of what he's trying to say, or—

River's eyes widen as she takes a deep breath, and Koschei stops searching for words and swallows all the things he wants to say, all he wants to ask, and waits, fearful and hopeful and he doesn't even know _why—_

“I'm sorry. I didn't know it was so early in your timeline. I shouldn't have mentioned that name,” River answers softly, taking a step closer, and Koschei shakes his head minutely, because that is not what he meant to ask— “I know the Doctor is dead,” she adds, so close to him now that all Koschei can see are her gold-flecked gray eyes and the sincerity, the _truth,_ in them. “I know you killed him,” she whispers, and Koschei actually sucks in a startled breath and stumbles back a step, though River grabs his hands gently to anchor him, carefully wrapping her warm fingers around the outside of his right hand, away from the burns. “Your actions, his choices… You can't blame yourself for that,” she reassures softly, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek, and then she _smiles._ “Let me tell you a secret. When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can't run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor,” she whispers, bringing her other hand to his free cheek as her smile brightens. “But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark, if he ever, for one moment, accepts it. Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day,” she repeats, stronger this time yet with her voice still so soft that it just weaves itself into his mind, trailing all the assurance and hope that are practically shining in her eyes. “I'm a time traveler. I know that man, that _imposible_ man. And you know, just as well as I do, that he just can't do it. He just can't give in,” she adds with a huff of laughter that Koschei can feel escaping through his own lips as well, his hands coming up to wrap firmly but gently over hers. “Some days are special, Sweetie. Some days are so, _so_ blessed. Some days, _nobody dies at all._ Now and then, every once in a _very_ long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair, and the Doctor comes to call… _Everybody lives,”_ she finishes, voice softer than ever before, just before their foreheads touch without them breaking their stare, even though Koschei doesn't know _when_ they closed the distance that separated them. “It will be hard, my love, but don't lose hope. We won't.”

“We?” Koschei repeats softly, trying to push down the ball of hope tangling around his hearts, and mischief returns to River's eyes.

“Spoilers.”

“Doctor Song! Time to leave!” Father Augustus calls, breaking the bubble River and Koschei had been encased in, away from the world, and the two of them separate with a start.

“Coming!” she answers, looking at them over her shoulder, before facing Koschei once more. “I need you to let me go, Sweetie.”

Koschei looks down to see his hands still wrapped around hers, and immediately lets them go as he takes a hurried step back, blushing in embarrassment and clearing his throat as he looks at the sea once more.

River chuckles, steps closer – and pinches his cheek.

“You are just so _adorable_ this young!” she exclaims before Koschei slaps her hand away—carefully, he knows how much a Time Lord's strength can hurt a human—with a loud protest. “I'll see you at the Pandorica, alright? Take care of yourself until then.”

“And how are you so sure I will be there, or that I will even _want_ to be there knowing you'll be around? Time can be rewritten,” he grumbles, rubbing his sore cheek because _that stings!_

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare,” she threatens, finger pointing at his face included, but she's grinning in amusement and there's excitement in her eyes.

“Watch me, Honey,” he answers, leaning towards her even though that means her finger is now poking his reddened cheek.

“Oh, I hate you,” she huffs as she pushes him away, still grinning, and Koschei rocks on his heels, chuckling.

“No, you don't.”

“River!” Amy's voice calls, and the two of them turn towards the camp to see her limping closer as fast as she can. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“Oh, I wouldn't dare,” River answers, opening her arms to catch Amy into as tight a hug as the younger girl is giving her.

“Liar,” Koschei pokes with a grin, earning a pointed look and an eyeroll from River.

“Tattletale.”

“Doctor Song!”

“Oi! Shut up!” Koschei barks as he turns to the Clerics with a snarl this time, and feels smug when they jump in surprise. “She just helped save this colony, and possibly the whole of the universe. Either you give her a minute to say goodbye, or I _will_ go back to the past to make sure your parents never met. That's the only warning you're going to get,” he tells them, putting on his best threatening frown, and though Father Augustus doesn't cower, his Clerics exchange wide-eyed looks.

“He thinks he's so hot when he does that,” River whispers to Amy, who chuckles as quietly as she can, and Koschei smirks as he turns to them.

“Wrong person there, Honey.”

“Get off your high horse, Sweetie.”

“But I thought you liked me as your knight in shining armor,” he pouts, and immediately regrets it when he's met with River's mischievousness.

“Maybe I just like bad boys in uniform. You should see me with the Time Agents, we're a riot,” she answers, and Koschei frowns for a moment—

_“Captain Jack Harkness.”_

_“Stop it.”_

_“Can't I say hello to anyone?”_

A scientist, a young girl… and a man in a trench coat, an immortal man who, he'd later learned, was an ex-Time Agent turned conman who the Doctor had picked up in World War II and who, after becoming stranded from the Doctor, had joined Torchwood Three.

River Song, mind sharp as a blade, meeting—

“Ugh, please, tell me you didn't!” he exclaims, pressing his hands against his closed eyes before pulling them away when that brings back images of Captain Harkness flirting with Chantho and the guards he'd assigned to guard him aboard the _Valiant,_ during the Year that Never Was. “Not Jack Harkness!” he adds, looking at River aghast, while a part of him hisses angrily and—protectively?

Because Jack Harkness had been the Doctor's but River is _his._ Well. She'll be. He's not against that thought as much now as he was before, apparently.

“Oh, sounds like an interesting story. Spoilers!” River chirps happily and, while Koschei groans in his hands and bemoans his luck in giving her _ideas,_ River exchanges one last hug with Amy. “I'll see you at the Pandorica. Don't be late, Sweetie!” she calls over her shoulder with a grin and a wink, finally joining the Clerics.

A moment later, and with Koschei giving her a disgruntled look in a petulant attempt at revenge for the images that are now in his mind, River and the Clerics vanish.

“Aw, look at you now! You like River! Finally done being a grumpy old alien, aren't you?” Amy baby-talks while holding back laughter, and reaches for his cheek—

“Enough with the pinching! I'm 1350, I'm too old for cheek-pinching!” he protests, stepping away from her, and Amy gives him an incredulous look.

“You did _not_ just say you're over 1300 years old.”

“ _1350,_ Amelia. Pay attention,” he huffs, dusting his armor with a smug grin, before looking down at her injured foot. “How's the ankle?”

“Oh, much better. They used some kind of regenerator or something after setting the bone, and put a brace around it. It's not fully fixed yet, they said it will take at least a couple more days, but I should be able to move around without problems with the brace. They gave me a painkiller too, in case I have trouble sleeping,” she explains, looking down at her feet in awe.

Crude as it is, when compared to twenty-first century medicine it _is_ amazing.

“That's alright. The TARDIS can fix the rest overnight and I'll drop you home in the morning. That pain in the ass can deal with what these dolts couldn't without a problem, at least,” he explains, walking up to Amy and offering his arm. “Will this be enough or would you like me to carry you there?”

“My Guardian Angel,” Amy snorts, but her smile turns sincere as she wraps her arm around his. “This will be enough, thank you. And be nice to the TARDIS, she healed you. You're coming to the infirmary with me, right? You look dead on your feet,” she asks as they finally slip inside the blue box, ignored by the Clerics going around lifting their camp.

“Sure. I could do with some sleep,” he answers with a grin, and Amy smiles back and relaxes into his side.

What he doesn't tell her is that, as soon as she's asleep on one of the infirmary beds after setting her ankle under the regenerator, Koschei will step back to the control room to do some research before getting that sleep.

The TARDIS purrs contently as she floats in the Vortex, humming a soothing song that almost feels like a lullaby, but Koschei feels apprehension grow with every step that takes him closer to the console.

And then, there he is, in front of the screen, with only a single command separating him from the truth.

“Right. Here goes nothing,” he whispers to himself as he takes a deep breath, before opening the search engine for the TARDIS' databanks.

It never felt like this before, looking at the profiles the TARDIS compiled about the Doctor's companions. But then again, he had only been searching for possible threats and obstacles to his plan to create a new Time Lord empire, and he hadn't had any actual _connection_ to any of them.

But now…

River had called him Doctor, when she first boarded the TARDIS. She had said she _knew_ the Doctor was dead, that Koschei had killed him. But…

_“It will be hard, my love, but don't lose hope. We won't.”_

It had been a good speech, filled Koschei with hope… But it's a false hope, a hope he can't take because _it isn't real._

River said the Doctor died. But her words had implied that he was _not,_ that he was _hiding_ instead. But that, eventually, he would resurface, when something big enough happened, when enough lives were threatened, because the Doctor could not accept that people died.

_“I'll see you at the Pandorica, alright? Take care of yourself until then.”_

The Pandorica. A stupid legend about a box, a prison, where the most horrible creature of the universe was trapped. It was nothing but a legend, but legends, as the Master knows well, can be brought to life.

The Toclafane hadn't been the _actual_ Toclafane, but they were no less real for that.

And so, this _Pandorica_ might yet prove itself another fairy tale come true, even if it is at the hands of a madman.

But first things first.

“Who is River Song?”

Instead of a file, as he'd been expecting, a video appears onscreen. Koschei blinks, startled, before looking around to make sure Amy is still resting in the infirmary—and to try to see if Theta has anything to say, but the ghost stays mysteriously absent—before turning once more to the screen.

And then, before he can doublethink himself anymore, he presses play.

Koschei’s breath gets caught in his throat.

Theta— _the Doctor_ is onscreen, hunched into himself and staring at the floor, fidgeting with his hands. It's his latest regeneration, the one with his ridiculous spiky hair and in a pinstripe suit, though this one is blue instead of brown.

The reason Koschei stands stock-still, holding his breath, is that the Doctor looks even worse off than _Koschei_ is right now. Seeing how Koschei has been through radiation-filled catacombs, faced an army of Weeping Angels, dealt with spatiotemporal rifts, and gone _back_ through the same radiation-filled catacombs, all the while dealing with a vulnerable twenty-first century human girl, a woman who claimed to know his future, and a bunch of Clerics, that’s saying _a lot._

Just what has this Doctor been through?

“Yes, I know what you're thinking. I look awful, don't I?” the Doctor huffs, still not looking up from the floor, but even though his suit is pristine, nothing can disguise the slump in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes and the darkness in their brown depths. “Yeah, well, that's the whole reason I'm doing this,” he adds with a sigh, running a hand over his face, before finally looking up. “If you're watching this—If _I'm_ watching this, it's because you've met Professor River Song and you have no idea why she knows you as well as she does. Truth is, I don't know either. But that's what this video is for. We _will_ meet her in the future, multiple times, and we'll grow closer – don't ask, I _seriously_ don't know. But eventually, one day, you'll turn up on her doorstep, with a new haircut and a suit. You'll take her to Darillium to see the Singing Towers for a night, just one night. And you will cry, but you won't tell her why. Instead, you'll give her your screwdriver. Quite like this one, but with a handle and red settings and dampers and—” he explains, pulling out his screwdriver, but cutting himself with a wince. “And a neural relay hidden inside, so her data ghost can be uploaded to the Library's data core when she dies in your place.”

This time, _Koschei_ is the one to flinch, and the Doctor meets his eyes, solemn and tired and _hurt,_ far more than his words can attest to, far more deeply, and Koschei dreads to know what happens next.

The Doctor breaks the stare first, looking down at the screwdriver in his shaking hands.

“The Library's data core contained four thousand and twenty-two people, saved from the Vashta Nerada that invaded it, brought as eggs in the pages of millions of books. Four thousand and twenty-three, counting Donna. But the Library was going to self-destruct, and there was no memory left to beam all the people out of the data core and reset the computer, stopping the countdown. I was going to use my own memory space. River knew it would kill me, burn out both my hearts, no regeneration. So, she knocked me out and took my place,” he adds, sad and frustrated at being unable to save someone, and Koschei can only watch with bated breath as the Doctor looks up again, more haunted than any other time before. “She knew my name. River knew my name.”

“Impossible.”

“I know, but she did!”

“But that's _impossible!”_

“Yes, I know _that,”_ the Doctor huffs, shoulders dropping once more as he stares down at his screwdriver with despair, clinging to it like it was a security blanket. “But there's something else. When we first met, when she first arrived, she said 'hello, sweetie' and she – she _trusted_ me. Told her companions to do so too, and she _listened_ to what I told them. And then she took me aside to ask about future situations we will meet at, before realizing I didn't know her. I still don't know her. But at the end, after she handcuffed me so I couldn't stop her, before she sacrificed herself…” the Doctor explains, voice lowering before he finally looks up again with a sigh and pain in his eyes. “She said… _Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here. And our first meeting—what I_ thought _was our first meeting… You really had me scared there for a moment, Sweetie.”_

 _“Just who do you think you are? Coming in here, into_ my _TARDIS, and barking out orders as if I'm nothing but your_ servant! _Well, newsflash, I have had_ enough _of people thinking they can do whatever they please with me, I have had_ enough _of being ordered around like a_ good little soldier! _I am_ no one's _tool and_ no one's _puppet, and you_ can't use me anymore!”

_“Doctor—”_

_**“Don't call me that!”** _

“I didn't know what she meant,” the Doctor continues, once more looking down, and Koschei can feel himself trembling as he realizes _he does._ “But then… Donna and I decided to take a break. We went to Midnight. She stayed at the spa and I took the shuttle to see the sapphire waterfalls on my own. Well, not on my own, there were some humans there too,” he explains with a dismissive shrug, hands clenching around his screwdriver, and Koschei gasps an inaudible 'what'.

_There were some humans there too._

Since when does the Doctor call humans _'humans'?_ He never did, they were always 'people' unless he really needed to specify.

But Koschei can't dwell on that further, because the Doctor continues his story and he really doesn't want to miss a word.

“We had to take a different route, first time through that one, due to a rockslide. And… Well, turns out the reports about Midnight being lifeless are greatly exaggerated.”

And, before Koschei can wonder about _that,_ the Doctor unfolds.

Now, in a normal human recording device, it would be impossible to record anything beyond the three dimensions it is made to perceive, but this was the TARDIS doing the recording. And, while a tridimensional being wouldn't see a difference in the image of a second ago and the one currently onscreen, Koschei can do so clearly.

Too clearly.

Koschei gags as he stumbles back, eyes wide and shaking his head in disbelief, feelers lashing out with a quick burst of _fearhorrordisgustnonononononono_ that makes the TARDIS' song turn to a pained moan followed by scared whimpers.

Onscreen, the Doctor curls into himself, not looking up, but doesn't fold back.

“We got away. I d-don't know if the creature died, or if there are more out there, but… They cancelled all tours and the Leisure Palace was abandoned in two weeks,” the Doctor continues with a chocked voice, pain and _terror_ rippling visibly through him, tridimensional shell shaking harshly, and Koschei hurries back to the controls to rest a hand against the screen, almost as if that would allow him to go through, to teleport to the Doctor's side and—and do _something._

Because those injuries, the extent of the damage done to his multidimensional aspects… Feelers ripped off, dimensions shredded like they were nothing… And the burns all over that could only be the result of an unbalanced energy exchange, or one that went on too long – or one that was _forced._

Time Lord telepathy is not of the mind, but from their multidimensionality. This means that it's impossible for a tridimensional telepathic race to break into a Time Lord's mind unless the Time Lord establishes a link, because they don't have the dimensions to do it themselves. However, if this Midnight creature was not tridimensional, but _multidimensional_ instead…

Multidimensionality in this universe is rare when not tied to temporal or spatial phenomena. Most races went extinct in the Dark Times, when the Yssgaroth targeted them as the best feeding sources for _their own_ multidimensionality, anti-structural as it was. The survivors isolated themselves, either by scaring the universe enough that they would not dare approach them, as was the Time Lords' case, or by moving to sequestered or isolated parts of their universe, or even to different ones. Some others simply did not have ties to the 'basic' three dimensions, and so lived on unbothered and undetected.

The Time War changed all of that. Gallifrey is gone, parallel universes are sealed off, isolated parts of the universe collapsed or turned into pocket universes, with their destruction being imminent. Other species were caught in the crossfire or joined the fight, and died long before the Time War ended.

So, in a ‘lifeless’ planet, surrounded by humans, and with no reason to suspect any kind of multidimensional aspect from a lifeform that had slipped under the Time Lords' highly accurate radar for such…

The Doctor was defenseless, or unprepared to react when he finally realized just how dangerous the creature was.

And that monster ripped into him and—

This time, Koschei pushes away from the controls, stumbles until he can grab onto the railing, and doubles over it as he heaves. Fortunately, his depleted body is holding tightly onto the nutritional rations he pilfered from the Clerics, refusing to let him throw them up. Unfortunately, he knows that, even if he had, he wouldn't have felt any better after.

His hands clench tightly on the railings, so much that, if this ship was anything other than a TARDIS, he would have dented them at the least, and crushed them at most. Probably. Maybe he would have gone even further if he'd been able to get _anything_ from his efforts, trying to dissipate the rage building in his chest and his heartsbeat enveloping his mind in a red haze not unlike that brought about by the drums.

“I'm sorry.”

Koschei freezes, not even breathing for a moment, before he forces the rage back and slowly makes his way back to the screen.

The Doctor has folded back, even tighter than he would have usually done, making himself so small in his efforts to protect himself from further harm that Koschei feels electricity crackle all around him as his rage builds in his feelers once more, ready to be discharged to fry the _bastard that hurt Theta so badly that I'm going to make them **wish** I killed them long before I actually do it, if I ever kill them at all._

“I'm so sorry,” the Doctor repeats, uncurling slowly, and Koschei rests his hand on the screen once more, rage replaced by desolation and helplessness as it finally dawns that he can't help, can't do anything, and, when he could have done something, he was too maddened by the drums to realize there was _something_ he needed to do.

How much of the damage had been radiation breaking the Doctor's body down, and how much had been old scars ripping open?

“It's in your hands now,” the Doctor continues, looking up so his pained and sad and _pleading_ eyes meet Koschei's. “Don't forget River. _Please,_ don't forget River. Because if you do, she dies. And she can't, not if she's going to be as important to me as to know my name. Don't forget her. Don't forget about the screwdriver, and the Library, and _don't forget River._ Please, don't. Because you have to save her, you are her only chance. I don't know if—if it will be these scars, or something else, but if that first meeting she mentioned is because I forgot her… Please, I beg you, _don't._ Don't forget River Song. She is too important to forget.”

And, after a moment staring into Koschei's eyes, as if awaiting a promise that he's too shocked to even process, the Doctor looks down at his sonic, fiddles with it – and the screen goes black.

Koschei shakes his head, takes a step back – and his legs fold under him, too weak and tremulous to sustain him anymore, leaving him sitting on the floor.

_“I don't know if—if it will be these scars, or something else, but if that first meeting she mentioned is because I forgot her…”_

And that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? The Doctor didn't forget River Song. The Doctor _died._

There's a soft beep over his head, and Koschei looks up on autopilot.

There's a file on the screen. River Song. Encountered in The Library in the fifty-first century. Time travelling together, four hours and fifty-two minutes. Encountered again in the theme park Asgard, fifty-second century, this time for six hours and thirty-three minutes.

And that’s it. No other encounters.

The Doctor met River Song _twice,_ and one of those encounters was on the day she died. River knew the Doctor, had known him long enough to be important enough to be given his sonic screwdriver, to _learn his name._

But the Doctor is dead.

And River knows _Koschei._

“I'm not the Doctor. I'm not – I'm not the Doctor, I can't, I'm not, I _can't—_ He has to come back, he's not-can't-he's dead, he's not dead can't be he has to come back I'm not him I'm no one the Doctor has to come back hehastocomebackThetepleasecomebackcomeback _comeback—”_

And Koschei curls up and screams.

* * *

Amy wakes up slowly, as if walking through a warm cloud made of all things nice and comfy and beautiful. But eventually, Amy wakes up and opens her eyes.

She's in the infirmary after the ordeal with the Angels, but feels as well rested as if she'd slept in her own bed for ten hours. It takes her a moment after she gets up and stretches to notice that her ankle doesn't pain her anymore, though it's still sore, as if she'd been sleeping in a weird position. Knowing that's not the case, she can nevertheless feel amazed at the efficiency of future medical technology. The last thing she wants is to go to her own wedding with her foot in a cast.

And that's when _everything else_ crashes down on her.

Wedding. TARDIS. The Doctor.

Amy looks around and calls for him, but the Raggedy Man is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, that insufferable stubborn alien! River was right, he _is_ a frustrating man to look after. Worse than a toddler! I swear, if he hasn't had his injuries looked after, I _will_ give him a reason to be sorry,” she huffs to herself, slipping her feet in some comfy pastel yellow slippers that appeared by her bed overnight, and wrapping a thin jacket over the medical pastel blue scrubs she slipped into so she wouldn't have to sleep in her Church uniform.

… Church uniform. Heh.

The infirmary, fortunately, is in the same spot as it was when they entered it, meaning the first door on the right of the central corridor, just after leaving the control room.

So, Amy goes to it first, to see if the Raggedy Man is working the controls or doing maintenance or something, before she tries to check the kitchens. If he's not in either of them, she'll have to ask the TARDIS for help, but she's fairly sure that, unless he has something urgent to tend to in the control room, he'll be stuffing himself in the main kitchen.

Maybe, if she's lucky, she'll catch him just starting, and he'll make her breakfast too. He _is_ a really good cook, after all. And Amy deserves it after the mess that was the _Byzantium._

But first, the control room.

“Raggedy Man?” she calls as she steps inside, looking around.

No answer. He's not at the controls, and she can't see him on the lower level either, though the reflection on the glass makes it a bit hard to be sure.

If he's wearing headphones, they'll have _words._

“Raggedy Man?” she calls again, louder, as she moves further inside so that the lights don't reflect on the glass floor and she can—

He's not in the lower level. Having moved, Amy can now see that he _is_ at the controls. Only, instead of operating them, he appears to be _under_ the console.

And the ball of black cloth that she can spot looks too much like the leathery clothing he wore under the armor, the _last clothes she saw him in,_ to be anything else.

“Ugh, seriously? Were you awake all night? I can't believe you! What were you doing that was so urgent that you couldn't—Raggedy Man? Hey, are you alright?” Amy asks, cutting her rant short when she kneels down in front of him to see he is curled into himself, head bowed behind his knees and arms tightly wrapped around his legs.

He isn't running maintenance.

Amy would say he was crying, but that would imply he is not anymore. And, if she is to judge by his shivering and the muffled sniffles she can now hear, he is _still_ crying.

“Raggedy Man? Please, say something? What's wrong, are you hurt?” she asks, scuttling to his side and, carefully, resting a hand on his arm.

He shivers and tenses, but slowly, he uncurls enough that his eyes can meet Amy's.

They are red, puffy, and shining with the same tears that left visible tracks on his cheeks.

“Oh my God, what happened? Are you hurt? Please, _please,_ say something,” Amy pleads, trying to keep her voice soft to not startle him even as she grabs his shoulder tightly.

“I _can't…_ I am not… The Doctor is _dead,”_ he croaks, voice as teary and devastated as his eyes, and Amy can do nothing but stare and listen, hoping he'll say something she can use to help. “Amy, the Doctor _is dead._ He's dead, I killed him,” he sobs, hiding his face once more while Amy observes helplessly, rubbing his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.

“What are you talking about?” she asks softly, remembering the times he has claimed to be the Doctor, and all those he refused that same claim.

But most of all, she remembers River's words.

_“What name is he using? I know he didn't go by Doctor this far back, so what name is he using now?”_

_“Stay with him. He needs people around, something to focus on, someone to remind him to_ live. _It will get better, but it will be hard before that. Be there, give him an anchor so he can figure out who he is again.”_

It looks like meeting River, meeting someone who knows him in the future, was the straw that broke the camel's back.

She can only hope he can recover after this…

_He will. Of course he will. He's the Doctor. He just needs to be reminded of it._

But how? How can Amy remind him of who he is if that is the very thing he refuses?

 _“Amy, the Doctor_ is dead. _He's dead, I killed him.”_

“I just wanted to save Gallifrey, I didn't realize s-someone _else_ was _using me._ I just wanted the pain to s-stop,” he sobs again, and Amy throws caution out the window and pulls him into a hug, awkward as it is with his curled position. “I messed up, _always_ messing up. They're _dead,_ everyone is _dead._ I could have saved them and I killed them instead and I— _I killed my best friend._ My best friend, my _only_ friend, the only person to ever be by my side even when I-I _ran._ I _killed him._ I _killed him and now everyone is dead,”_ he whimpers, and Amy starts to rock them as best as she can, humming that song Aunt Sharon used to sing when she woke up screaming from a nightmare, back when she was young. “And everyone else I ever touched, I hurt them too… Donna lost everything, she's as good as dead because of me, and she was _so strong…_ A-And Rose is gone, and Martha left and—”

“Martha?” Amy repeats, startled at the name and remembering at last about the other Doctor, stuck in 1969 with _Martha._

“Martha Jones,” the Raggedy Man elaborates, so lost in his grief and pain that it's almost as if he went off topic of his own volition, instead of being prompted by Amy. “The Girl who Walked the Earth. She was strong, she was _so strong,_ and I didn't realize, and I hurt her, and her family, and all the people she loved, but she still _came back,_ even knowing she could die. And she left, because she was strong and she didn't need the Doctor, so she left and she was _good,_ she was magnificent, and _I hurt her, I hurt everyone because I was selfish and **I'm not sorry!”**_ he roars, tensing so much that Amy fears he's going to explode, but he doesn't uncurl from his trembling ball of pity and grief and rage. “I am _not sorry!_ They used me, they used everyone, they wanted their planet to be safe and their people to live and they mutilated and tortured each other and _I just wanted my planet back,”_ he sobs, deflating back into Amy's hug, and she tries to wrap herself more completely around him, humming once more. “I broke it. I broke it, I was cast aside, but he was there, he chose _me,_ he wanted me to live and _I killed him._ We were the only two left and I _hurt him_ and I was selfish because I didn't want him to die but _he died in my arms with a bloody smile on his face and now **he's gone.**_ I'm the only one left. I'm the last of the Time Lords, but I'm not even that because they _rejected_ me, _I ran away_ and I _destroyed_ my planet and I _killed everyone_ and _I failed._ And I didn't see the gun, I didn't even _know_ there was a gun, they wanted me _alive,_ why would there be a gun, but there was a gun and he got shot and he _died,”_ he sobs, and, before Amy can react, he lifts his head and meets her eyes with his own, full of grief and hopelessness and a loss so deep she can't even begin to understand. “I begged him to stay, I begged him to regenerate, I promised I would _stop_ and it would be the two of us in the TARDIS but he _smiled_ and he _died._ He _smiled_ and he _died in my arms_ and I couldn't do _anything._ I'm not the Doctor, Amelia, _I am not._ The Doctor made people better, he didn't-didn't do the things _I did,”_ he sobs once more, curling around Amy this once, hugging her tightly but without hurting and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Amy hugs him just as tightly and doesn't bother holding back her tears.

Her Raggedy Doctor, her poor, kind, _wonderful_ and broken Raggedy Doctor.

If only there was something Amy could do to help…

At least the other Doctor and Martha are safe, if Martha managed to walk away, so maybe it's something that, with Amy accompanying the Doctor into the catacombs instead of staying in the TARDIS, has changed and avoided their becoming stranded in 1969.

But her actual Doctor, her Raggedy Doctor, is still broken and hurting.

How can she help? How can she help the Doctor remember who he is when he's refusing it so vehemently, when he's hurt so badly from it all? How can she remind him to live when he feels he can only wrong the people he cares about?

Oh. _Oh._

Amy resumes her humming and rocking, caressing the Doctor's back as he sobs his grief out, and thinks that mad idea through more purposefully this time.

She goes over it, again and again, and, by the time the Doctor has calmed down, no longer crying but still leaning heavily on her, Amy is convinced her plan will work.

She can no longer travel with the Doctor, her trips have run out. But the Doctor can't travel alone. So, what better way to remind him how to live than by showing him the joys that come from actually living?

“Raggedy Man? I have a question, a _very important question._ Look at me, please?” she asks first, trying to make sure he really is as calm as she thinks, and back in the present once more.

It takes him a couple minutes of sniffling and shuddering, but eventually, he pulls away from Amy, even if he's still clinging to her shoulders.

His eyes are still red and puffy and full of grief and loss, but they focus on her easily enough and he makes an effort to wipe his face clean of tears, even if it is with his sleeve. He looks like he hasn't slept in a hundred years, ashen and disheveled and exhausted, but Amy still manages to give him a sincere smile at finally seeing his face.

He looks like Hell, but he actually did as she asked. There's still fight left in him, even if he himself doesn't know it, and Amy is not going to give up on him, not now and not ever.

“There you are. So, tomorrow is a really important day for me, and you are a really important person to me. You, the Raggedy Man, not any of those fake names or titles. My Raggedy Man,” she emphasizes, cupping his face when he looks away and waiting until he meets her eyes again. “You are important to me, and I really want you to be there in my big day. So, here's my question. Raggedy Man, will you walk me down the aisle?”

**Author's Note:**

> This episode's title is a nod to _Forest of the Dead,_ the last episode of the two-parter of _Silence in the Library_ and _Forest of the Dead,_ River Song's first appearance. Her speech to the Master, _everybody knows that eveybody dies,_ is taken from there.
> 
> So, I did mention the Master's focus at the Academy was military, didn't I? There you have it, his improvisations are a lot less "updraft from blowing up a gravity globe" and more "let's jump the Hell out of here". Good thing he has River there to help, or I can imagine him just throwing Amy over his shoulder and running away as fast as he can, leaving the Clerics behind as a distraction.
> 
> I know in the episode the Angels are freaked out by the crack and so their quantum-locking instinct is triggered simply by having someone who _could_ see them walk too close to them, but… I would say it's a weak excuse, but I've seen the video about the guy who runs around the corner, with another guy dressed in a dino suit after him, and how the other pedestrians all run away as soon as they see the dinosaur, so… I guess instinct is not that hard to trigger. But still, there we have _another_ way it could have worked… with no humans around, of course. Time Lords are Eldritch Abominations, their true forms are so incomprehensible that they drive tridimensional minds mad. But still, I don't think it would be enough to have that _eyes on the back of my neck_ feeling without there being that terrifyingly convenient shadow that just happens to look like a person to add more _weight,_ more _truth,_ to the feeling.
> 
> On that point, the Tohili is a made up species that are supposed to be feathered lizards. Tohil is another name for Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent from Mesoamerican mythos.
> 
> Why give the Master a non-humanoid body? Because the reason Time Lords mostly look humanoid is that it's the most common look of the intelligent species of this universe, and they want to fit, but they don't _need_ that form. Their species is not defined by humanoid looks, but by their multidimensionality and internal organs, and those don't change (noticeably) with regeneration. Still, the humanoid shape is still the most 'handy', so they keep it. Plus, it makes the Time Lords' jobs easier, as they look familiar yet alien enough to the rest of the universe to blend in but also unnerve them. Gallifreyan that don't become Time Lords don't necessarily have a humanoid form, which is why the Ninth Doctor made those comments about his next regeneration not having legs or a head. _It happens._
> 
> About Father Octavian: I almost saved him, and maybe one or two of the Clerics, but they just took so long talking that Father Octavian ended up sending all four Clerics to the crack. But then, he _was_ supposed to live, I mean, he was already in the Flight Deck, how could an Angel get to him in there? So the Angel got Amy instead. And I remember thinking that I was going to have to kill her, there and then, because how do you get out of _that?_ And Father Octavian decided that no one was dying on his watch, especially not an innocent civilian, even if that meant _he_ was going to die instead. I actually meant to save him too, I didn't want him to die, and definitely not like that. Dying on duty? Honorable. _Being erased and have no one remember your sacrifice?_ I didn't want that for him. But there was no way an Angel (Angel Bob, likely) wouldn't take the chance to get to Amy to use her as insurance or to take her with them to spite the Doctor, and Father Octavian wouldn't sit by if he could help. The Master wouldn't have done it either, but he had to scramble up a console and crawl to Amy first, so Father Octavian was faster. RIP Father Octavian. We'll remember you.
> 
> Tharils are a leonine time-sensitive species from the episode _Warrior's Gate._
> 
> I didn't think River and the Master would get along that well once he got past the suspicion, but I'm glad they do. They're such trolls!
> 
> And… I broke the Master. I didn't mean to, I swear! I thought River would give him hope, but he really is too clever not to notice, and then _of course_ he had to check and I _had_ to add that line to River's words in _Forest of the Dead_ so it would make sense for the Doctor to leave a message to his future self after he realized there are things in the universe that can mess with his head.
> 
>  _Midnight_ is the most terrifying episode I've seen yet. With this headcanon it's even worse.
> 
> And it's time to get Rory in the team, which means all-new-stories, no longer following the series (much, or, at least, they'll be different enough). So, between holidays and lack of script, expect a long wait…
> 
> Next time: The Master gives Amy and Rory their wedding present and they all learn to never mess with a mother, no matter the species.


End file.
